


Gestures of Idleness

by Jaelijn



Series: A Heart to Hold [5]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Asexual Avon, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Style, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Science Fiction, Season/Series 02, but only the vaguest of spoilers, probably somewhere after Gambit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His relationship with Vila was none of Blake's business where Avon was concerned - and of course it would be too much to expect that Blake gave the missions in the name of his Cause a rest while taking an... undue interest in their affairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More for my asexual!Avon series - this time from Avon's perspective, which was a lot of fun to write. Which probably is the reason why this developed a plot and somehow got long. There are some allusions to the other works of the series in this, but as always it should be perfectly enjoyable without reading them first. 
> 
> Three things: (1) Don't be too hard on Blake, he doesn't have the full picture and means well - but this is Avon's POV so there is a fair (or perhaps unfair) degree of irritation with him (though really no more than is usual for Avon, I think). (2) There are references to rape in this - but primarily only to the suspicion of, not the actuality - and references to Blake's "crime" as per "The Way Back" - you know what I mean. (3) I won't apologise for the Shakespearean pun, though it is a bit... explicit and politically incorrect. ;) 
> 
> I'm breaking my lyrics-title rule with this one, but really I couldn't give it any other name. Enjoy!

“What are you doing with Vila?”

Avon looked up from his reading, not quite glancing at Blake, who was keeping _very busy_ at the central console where he was on watch. So it hadn’t been a coincidence after all that Blake had shifted watch duties around earlier in the week so that Avon and Vila were no longer on watch together – in fact, they had barely seen each other at all, except when Vila had come stumbling back to his cabin after a day that had apparently been exhausting just when Avon was leaving to get breakfast. “What are you implying, Blake?”

“Don’t play games with me. I’ve been watching you.”

“I noticed. If you’re worried that we’re plotting to abscond with the money in the _Liberator_ ’s holds, you can rest easy. Vila wouldn’t, and I am far more interested in the ship than the money.”

Blake stepped down from the console, looking annoyed. “Stop playing coy, Avon. You know very well what I was referring to.”

Avon allowed himself a slow smirk and lowered his reading to give Blake his full attention. “Do I? Pray enlighten me.”

“I know baiting me is a game to you.” Blake settled on the sofa opposite. “But what you’re doing with Vila – surely you must see that the situation is different?”

“Stop tiptoeing around the topic, Blake. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Avon did, in fact, have an inkling, but this was worth having Blake spell it out.

“You and I might never have worried much about the grade system, but we are both Alpha grade, and Vila is a Delta. You must realise he is much easier influenced than I am.”

Avon arched an eyebrow. Vila’s immunity to reprogramming alone would have contradicted Blake’s argument, but Avon had stopped bringing up Blake’s re-education a long time ago. “Your point being?”

“Damn it, Avon, you have to stop exploiting Vila for your own gain!”

  Avon pushed himself to his feet, walking towards his station. “It seems to me like you are the one giving Vila too little credit.”

“You cannot go on abusing your position over Vila to have sex with him!”

Avon barked a laugh. “This is what you were worried about?”

“It isn’t funny, Avon.”

“I’m not pressuring Vila into anything.”

“I’m not saying you’re doing it on purpose.”

“ _I_ am not in the habit of manipulating people into doing something they don’t want to do.” Avon settled into his chair, and levelled a gaze at Blake that held perhaps more force than necessary, but Blake _was_ trying his nerves.

“This is just a word of caution, Avon – if Vila feels obliged–”

“Don’t you think that should be Vila’s decision? Instead you are lecturing me.”

Blake stood, too, walking around the shield generator to be directly in front of Avon. His expression was one of high-handed seriousness, completely ignorant of the fact that he had no grasp of the situation at all. “I would hate to discover that Vila was not in a position to make his choices freely.”

Avon closed his hand around the edge of his station. “Let me be perfectly clear, so even you can understand it, Blake. It’s none of your business, and I have no interest in having sex with Vila.”

The gratification at seeing Blake’s surprise simmered away too quickly in Avon’s annoyance. Force Vila to have sex with him, indeed! If Blake had considered talking to any of them, instead of accusing first, Avon would have been more inclined to enlighten him. Clearly it was _Blake_ who could not see beyond Vila’s grade classification and consider that, maybe, the thief had worth to Avon beyond supplying a warm body. Not that Avon didn’t shy away from the mere thought of _that_ being all he might get out of a relationship – it didn’t seem worthwhile to even go through the effort. After all, he hadn’t bothered pursuing any of the rare flashes of sexual attraction he had experienced – and well, if his track record of relationships looked unusually empty to Blake and led him to assume that Avon got his satisfaction via casual sex, that was really Blake’s problem. Not that Avon had any intention of telling him – let him think his reticence was rooted in what happened to Anna, or in his history of run-ins with what passed for the Federation’s justice system.

   Avon pulled himself from his thoughts at the lack of response from Blake. “What is it now, Blake? Did the Federation get your tongue?”

Blake looked puzzled, his gaze darting over Avon’s face as if that could help him figure it out. Avon nearly scoffed, but then Blake seemed to recover. “I don’t want to hear any complaint from Vila, Avon,” he said, the warning note still in his voice.

Avon allowed himself a sardonic smile. “Vila rarely stops complaining, which can’t have escaped your attention, surely?”

“About _your conduct_ , Avon.”

“Noted. Now if you excuse me –” Avon picked up his reading, and some datacubes he had left at his station. “As nice as it was to talk to you, Blake, I believe you are on shift and I have work elsewhere.” He pushed away from his station and headed towards the exit, Blake’s stare following him until he was out of sight.

Avon wound his way through the long corridors of the _Liberator_ to the recreation room. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but knew he should have at least something or would regret it later. They had developed a habit of running into trouble entirely out of the blue, and that would inevitably lead to him missing a meal, if not several. Negligence when he had the time to eat, if not the inclination, wasn’t worth it.

He passed Jenna on the way – the pilot was certainly headed towards the flight deck, and as usual they acknowledged each other only with a passing glance and a nod – and could hear Vila’s voice even before he rounded into the corridor that housed the rec room. Voices could carry on the _Liberator_. Avon stepped inside, finding Vila chatting with Cally. “You’re awake, then?” Avon asked, walking up to them.

“Good morning to you, too, Avon,” Vila said cheerfully, sipping at a drink. He had his socked feet up on the table, the chair tipped back dangerously.

Avon set the datacubes and reader down on the table. “Cally.”

“Good morning, Avon. Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Avon devoted some of his attention to the food processor, trying to push down the lingering irritation he felt at Blake – really, he’d never considered it unreasonable to expect educated individuals to be aware of _all_ sexual orientations, but he supposed it was too much to ask that Blake, whose head was in shambles at the best of times, make the necessary connections. “Blake is on watch, and I will make good use of whatever free time I have before he comes up with the next hare-brained venture.”

Cally looked faintly reproachful, but Avon caught Vila’s grin out of the corner of his eye, and _that_ was gratifying. He might not be prepared admit to that in company, but he wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself.

“Haven’t got much use for hares, eh, Avon?” Vila quipped, swirling his drink – probably some juice or other. Vila had a habit of spicing up innocent drinks to make them look like the most decadent cocktails. Doubtless, there was some correlation there to his love for puns. “Me being a vegetarian and all.”

Avon shot him a sharp grin. “Indeed.”

Cally looked puzzled. “Sometimes I really don’t understand your conversations.”

Avon pulled his dinner from the recess in the wall – just a simple soup and a bread roll, something the processor could just about piece together in edible condition from the raw and imperishable protein of which the _Liberator_ had plenty in storage. For a combat vessel that had never been intended for lengthy inhabitation, the System had stocked it well – or perhaps they required considerably more sustenance than humans, though Avon thought that unlikely.

“Never you mind, Cally,” Vila said, “just a pun from the olden days.”

“From a banned literary work, if I’m not mistaken,” Avon added, settling into a spare chair. He pushed the reader and datacubes out of the way and towards Vila, forcing the thief to put down his feet, and broke apart the bread.

“Has that ever stopped you?”

Avon grinned, flicking his eyes up to Vila’s for a split second. “What do you think?”

“There is very little literature on Auron,” said Cally. “We preserve our tradition orally.”

“Or mentally?” Vila took a last drink from his glass. “Can’t imagine what that would be like, being surrounded by people who know exactly what you know.”

“It doesn’t quite work that way, Vila. We _are_ still individuals.”

Avon stirred his soup. “Are you?”

“Yes! Really, Avon.”

The intercom chimed at that moment, relieving Avon from coming up with a suitable answer. Naturally, it was Blake. “Cally, could you come up to the flight deck for a moment?”

Cally sighed and rose. “I’m on my way, Blake. Enjoy your meal.” She smiled at Vila, and walked out, the door closing behind her.

Vila leant forward, putting his empty glass down on the table and cradling it with his hands. “Everything all right, Avon?”

“Naturally.”

Vila lifted a sceptical eyebrow. “Yeah? Sure you aren’t tense all over?”

Avon gritted his teeth. “ _Blake_ has taken an interest in our relationship.”

“Eh? Why would he do that?”

“He has got it into his head that I am pressuring you to have sexual intercourse with me.”

Vila laughed. “Come now, Avon.”

Avon felt his mouth twitch into a smile despite himself. “I’m serious – or at least Blake is.”

“He has no idea, has he?”

“How could he?”

“I suppose.” Vila clambered to his feet, pulling a decanter of the same brightly orange liquid he’d been drinking from the cooling unit. “Drink?”

“What is it this time?”

“It tastes a little like orange juice. I’m told it’s a vegetable.”

So Vila wasn’t prepared to reveal the name, which was never a good sign. They frequently picked up fresh mystery foodstuff when they passed a neutral or independent planet with a free market, but it wasn’t always as edible as the inhabitants claimed it to be. If Vila got cagey about the designation of this… _vegetable_ , Avon wanted no part in it. “No, thank you.”

Vila shrugged and poured himself another glass. “Are you going to tell Blake?”

“I wasn’t planning to. It’s none of his business. But I suppose he might come and talk to you next.”

“What _did_ you tell him?”

“Only the truth – that the choice is yours and that I have no interest in having sex with you.”

Vila chuckled. “Nice one, Avon! Words chosen carefully.”

“Of course.”

Vila returned to the table, settling down into the chair Cally had vacated so he was facing Avon. “Why’d you get angry, then?”

“I think you might get a little frustrated too, Vila, if you’d consider the implication.” Avon focussed on his soup, leaving Vila time to think it through.

It was easy to pinpoint the exact moment Vila figured it out, because he took a long drink, his forehead creased in a frown. “That isn’t particularly nice.”

“No.”

“Well, it’s nonsense. I know what it feels like to be pressured into something I don’t want, and this isn’t it.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised, under the circumstances – it is a touchy subject with Blake.”

Vila swirled his drink. The bright orange didn’t look any more attractive in motion. “Don’t like dwelling on it. I’m safe with you.”

Avon was silent, busying himself with his bread and the remainder of the soup. Vila’s capacity to completely and easily trust despite a lifetime in the criminal underworld of the Federation was something he probably would never understand, but couldn’t help being grateful for.

“Avon, should we tell them? About our relationship?”

“Do you want to?”

“Not particularly. But I don’t want you to be forced to talk about sex with anyone or be accused of raping me.”

Avon sighed, pushing the bowl aside. He hadn’t had much of an appetite to begin with, and the warm liquid sat strangely in his stomach. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that Blake will drop it.”

“I could talk to him,” Vila offered quietly. “I’m sure he’d understand.”

“After Cally has just gone to the flight deck and no doubt told him that she left you and me together? Certainly not.”

“Blake means well.”

“Yes, and he has convinced himself that I control you. Oh, he has us neatly trapped.” Suddenly, all contentment Avon had felt at being around Vila fled. He couldn’t allow Blake to ruin _this_. “I think I better go. Before Cally comes back.” He pushed himself to his feet, not quite sure where to head next. His room held little appeal, but he _was_ tired.

“Avon?”

Avon turned back towards Vila, and found the thief looking thoughtful and a little sad.

 “You don’t believe it, do you?”

“That I’m forcing you to have sex with me?” Avon asked, bitterness seeping into his voice despite himself.

“That you control me.”

Avon held Vila’s gaze for a moment, wishing he could think of something to make him smile. _Damn you, Blake!_ “No. No, I don’t. Don’t worry, Vila.” He turned away, heading towards the door.

“I won’t if you don’t,” Vila said quietly, just as the door fell shut behind him.

 

Avon _did_ return to his room, if only to change and to close his eyes for a little while. He knew sleep wouldn’t come easily, if it came at all – not with his mind still turning back to the conversation with Blake. Vila wasn’t wrong – Blake had probably meant well. Always the protector of the weak, the idealistic hero. Where Vila was concerned, Avon could even understand the protective impulse, for once – but it only served to show how little Blake knew any of them. To Blake, his cause, his idealism would probably always be more important than anything else. Blake had, after all, proven _that_ often enough.

On the other hand, Avon _had_ kept his sexual orientation mostly to himself. There were many Alphas who liked to brag about their promiscuity, all of whom Avon had found singularly uninteresting. He had always considered all those private matters nobody else’s business. It had almost been a relief when he had started working more with computers and less with other people – they, at least, did not expect him to join in that kind of conversation as if it were a matter of course to have had five Deltas in a brothel over the weekend.

Avon rolled out of bed and went into the little adjoining bathroom, filling a glass with water and avoiding his own gaze in the mirror. He knew, of course, that not all sexual relationships were distasteful, and he had it on good authority that even the _purely_ sexual ones could be quite fulfilling. The fact that he had never understood, would never understand, had been maddening for a long time – Avon disliked riddles, and those which were by their very nature unsolvable to him even more so. Still, he also understood that _he_ was the exception, and he’d always held the belief that, as long as nobody intruded into his affairs, he would not intrude into theirs.

Blake had very much intruded into his affairs.

Avon took the water into the main room with him, leaning against the doorframe and contemplating his desk. There was work he could do – there always was – but his heart wouldn’t be in it tonight. Part of the issue, he supposed, might be resolved if he told Blake about his asexuality – that, at least, would probably get the insinuation of rape off his and Vila’s back. It was the underlying assumption, however, that worried Avon – if Blake really thought his control over Vila was so complete that he could convince him to have _sex_ against his will, what would happen if Blake turned that scrutiny to their relationship? Avon didn’t think he could stand it. What he had with Vila had never been simple – neither of them was a simple man, after all – but Avon could do without making it the most complicated element of his life. After all, as Cally always reminded him, he needed to relax at some point.

Avon set down the glass on the free spot he had taken it from, and returned to bed, resolving to put Blake out of his mind. For the night, at any rate, even if it meant lying awake with his eyes closed and mentally taking apart the teleport system from start to finish.

 

Avon must have fallen asleep at some point, after all, because it was the comm unit next to the door that woke him. “Avon. It’s time for your shift.” It was Jenna, sounding particularly gruff today. Avon briefly acknowledged the call and quickly freshened up. He didn’t feel rested, despite having slept, but that wasn’t something the others needed to be able to tell at first glance.

He walked right into a… well, perhaps heated discussion was the best term.

“I’m telling you, Blake, there is nothing there! Treasure hunters have been scouring the planet for decades, and of those that made it back none have found _anything_. It’s a myth!”

“None of them had a ship like the _Liberator_. Don’t you understand, Jenna? The _Federation_ has given up on the planet. It could be the perfect safe base for the rebellion.”

“And what’s that about not everyone making it back, eh?” Vila. Avon breathed a little lighter at hearing the thief’s voice. “Doesn’t sound particularly safe to me.”

Cally, of course, was off shift and probably sleeping.

“What are you planning now, Blake?” Avon asked, sliding into his station, and quickly glancing over the system status – everything was working just fine.

Blake, standing in front of the flight deck like he so often did when proposing a mission, turned to face him. “You have heard of the _Gestures of Idleness_.”

Avon looked up from his readouts, not quite succeeding to mask his surprise. “The poetic name for a very treacherous area of space in the fifth sector, littered with asteroid belts and gravitational anomalies – of course I have heard of it. It’s a treasure hunter’s dream – a single solar system at its centre, rumoured to be so rich in natural resources that it has been called Eldorado.” Avon smirked, shooting a side glance towards Vila. “It is, of course, a myth.”

“I think Gestus Alpha might well exist, but it’s hardly worth the risk. If it really was an Eldorado, why would everyone return emptyhanded – and more importantly, why would the Federation stop pursuing the rumours?” Jenna leant forward on her navigation station. “Blake, they _do_ have better ships than the average freetrader. If they have decided navigating the _Gestures_ isn’t worth the risk…”

“But that is _exactly_ why we should go there! The _Liberator_ is far superior to any Federation scout ships, and Zen hasn’t raised any protest. With Orac and Zen to help us and our first-rate pilot I am _sure_ we can make it safely!”

Jenna smiled at the compliment, and Avon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Oh, _you_ are sure. Nobody knows exactly what the _Gestures_ are, Blake! Are you hell bent on risking the _Liberator_ on yet another gravitational anomaly? Wasn’t our last encounter close enough for you?”

Blake looked dismayed. “I thought you would be more interested.”

“Oh, I _am_ interested. I’m not suicidal.”

“I’m as much for acquiring unlimited wealth as the next man,” Vila said, “but I have a bad feeling. Avon’s right; last time was bad enough!”

 “Of course you would agree with Avon,” Blake mumbled, gnawing on his knuckles.

Avon tightened his hand around the edge of the console to stop himself from exploding at Blake right then and there. He didn’t dare glance over at Vila, not even when the silence became oppressive and he could feel Vila’s eyes on him.

Blake remained standing in front, apparently oblivious to the effect of his words. Avon had a few choice words of his own chasing through his mind – if he hadn’t very much doubted that it would have improved the situation, he would have hurled them at Blake in an instant.

Eventually, Jenna cleared her throat, and Aon forcefully pulled himself away from his anger – about _that_ , anyway. “So you have already decided,” he told Blake. “Why waste energy on consulting _us_ , anyway?” He looked towards Jenna. “The course is already set?”

She nodded, looking uncomfortable.

“Well, I suppose you better get some rest, then. It seems we will need _our first class pilot_ soon enough.”

Jenna scowled at him, but gave full control over to the autopilot and stepped down from her station. “I’ll be in my cabin, Blake.”

Blake nodded, keeping his eyes carefully directed away from both Avon and Vila. Avon had no idea what Vila was doing, and didn’t dare to look. He directed his attention to Zen instead. “Zen, how long before we reach the _Gestures_?”

“Twenty hours at current speed.”

“Almost a day, then. Were you planning on letting Cally in on your plan in the meantime, Blake?”

Blake finally looked him in the eye again. “You know I was. Don’t you see, Avon, if we can navigate the _Gestures_ , we will have some place the Federation doesn’t dare go – someplace with a sun, too, where the _Liberator_ can recharge in peace – where we can _rest_!”

“Oh, I am well aware _why_ we are going. But clearly your _overwhelming_ concern for your crew doesn’t extend as far as to protect them from suicidal missions in the name of your Cause.”

“I thought you didn’t consider yourself a member of my crew.” Blake was beginning to look really angry – not that he had any right to be, as far as Avon was concerned.

“I wasn’t talking about myself,” he shot back instead, and watched Blake’s eyes dart to Vila, still standing at his station.

“Uh.” Vila inched out from behind the console. “I’ll let Cally know.” And with that, he had hurried off the flight deck. Avon couldn’t blame him, but still felt a pang of regret at seeing him go without so much as a glance and a smile.

“Aren’t you proud of yourself, Blake?” he asked, voice quiet now that they were alone.

“We need a base, Avon.”

“ _That_ wasn’t what I meant.” If Avon hadn’t threatened to leave and failed to do so the last time they had navigated a dangerous space phenomenon, he might have offered again. If, that was, he could have taken Vila with him. Not that Vila would have agreed – nor did Avon really want to leave. One day, the _Liberator_ would be his… “Well, I have the watch, and you ought to rest, too.”

For a moment, Blake looked almost apologetic, but he didn’t say anything – just stalked past Avon, and left him alone on the flight deck.

Avon waited until Blake’s steps had fully faded before he moved from his station to the sofa and called on Orac to give him all the available information about the _Gestures_. They were going, whether they wanted to or not, and Avon would rather go prepared. Besides, he found Orac’s impetuous voice and electronic whirring as it retrieved data strangely soothing.

When Orac was done, Avon was wide awake. He had heard stories about the _Gestures_ , and yet more stories about Gestus Alpha, but had never considered them beyond the legend. It wasn’t as though he had counted on ever being able to see them in person, and the Federation, as much as it drove the mapping and exploitation of space, had little interest in pure scientific curiosities. Orac, on the other hand, was very interested.

“Recommendation, Orac?”

“You will have to be more specific.”

“Is it worth the risk?”

“These so called _Gestures of Idleness_ are fascinating. A chance to study them at close range would supply invaluable scientific data.”

“ _That_ isn’t why we’re going, and you know it.”

“The existence of Gestus Alpha, _as I have explained_ , remains unconfirmed. However, Federation ships have consistently avoided the area.”

“Any information as to why?”

“None.”

“None?”

“Do you wish me to define the word? There is no data.”

Avon hummed. “I’m sure that must drive you to distraction.”

Orac made no reply – not that Avon would have expected it to. He leant back on the sofa, thinking it over. It was preferable to dwelling on Vila, at any rate.

The _Gestures of Idleness_ were, as Orac had said, fascinating. Quite beautiful by all accounts, they also held the potential of great danger, being mostly uncharted and hardly understood. Gravity wells, asteroids, and a high-velocity interstellar cloud which gave the region its beauty were only what was known about them. While there were isolated incidents of ships travelling through the zone and surviving the journey – no doubt the source of the legends surrounding it – any reliable data came from long-distance surveys. There might be untold treasures awaiting them inside the _Gestures_ – or certain death.

“Orac.”

“Yes?” the machine answered, testy as ever.

“Scientific curiosity aside, I want your estimation of the risks to the _Liberator_ should we fly into the zone.”

“Must I repeat myself? There is no conclusive data.”

“I don’t want a conclusion, I want an estimation. Well?”

Orac whirred shrilly for a moment. “Very well. There is considerable danger in the unknown. _If_ the previous data can be extrapolated to encompass the entire zone, there is no risk to the _Liberator_ at full system function. However, there is an eighty percent chance of unknown elements occurring further in the zone, which might or might not pose a danger to the _Liberator_.”

“Thank you, Orac.” Avon reached over to pull the key. “Helpful as ever.” In effect, Avon knew, he had just got as close to an _I don’t know_ out of Orac as he ever would. It was only a machine, after all – it could only extrapolate from existing data, and where there was no data despite Orac’s extensive reach, there could be no conclusions. The only way to resolve the issue, of course, was to gather more data. With the _Liberator_ ’s sensors, they might be able to find out a little more about the _Gestures_ before flying straight down the lion’s throat, as it were.

“Zen!”

Zen’s visual reference point flared to life, indicating the computer had heard.

“I want you to gather as much data as you can about these _Gestures of Idleness_ as we approach – and share them directly with Orac.”

“Confirmed.”

Avon nodded, placing Orac’s activator key back down on its casing. Well, that was that. There was little else he could do – speculation was getting him nowhere, and unless he could present Blake with a more solid reason for not entering the zone other than a lack of data, there would be no changing the man’s mind. It was curious, too, that _Zen_ had made no protest about their course, considering the strike it had gone to the last time they had set course for an unknown area. Perhaps its builders knew more than the Federation did, without allowing Zen to share that information. Avon had made some adjustments to Zen’s systems since, but he very much doubted that he had accidentally removed the restrictions on orders that reduced to a command to self-destruct. It was a risk, to be sure, but when had they ever done anything that wasn’t?

“Avon!”

Avon looked up to find Cally, walking onto the flight deck with a smile that was just a little strained. “Cally. I take it you’ve been informed of Blake’s new scheme?” It was the wrong thing to say, Avon realised immediately, but the words were already out of his mouth, and, as expected, came Cally’s answer.

“Yes, Vila told me.”

Avon drew a breath, trying to push thoughts of the thief down and out of the way. It wasn’t that he didn’t like thinking about Vila – he just didn’t want to do so in the same breath as seething about Blake. Vila could be irritating on occasion, yes, but their relationship wasn’t – until Blake had taken it upon himself to intrude.

“Is everything all right, Avon?” Cally asked, sitting down opposite him, just where Blake had been the previous evening.

“Naturally. We are only travelling towards a potentially dangerous region of space we know next to nothing about, after all. I don’t suppose Blake consulted _you_?”

Cally tilted her head as if she were very well aware that he was deflecting, but would go along with it. “A base might be useful.”

“Yes, I agree – if getting to it doesn’t get us killed.”

“What does Orac say?”

Avon smiled – more a flash of teeth than any mirth behind it. “It doesn’t know. There is no data.”

“Vila seemed very nervous.”

Avon glanced up at her – oh yes, Cally knew exactly what she was doing. “Vila is always nervous.”

Cally shook her head. “Not like this. You seem tense, too.”

“Don’t I always?” Avon asked, avoiding her gaze, and wishing he had something to occupy his hands with, even if it only were a pair of game tokens. Sometimes, he was extremely glad that Cally couldn’t actively read minds – though her empathic abilities were disturbingly accurate. He supposed his own emotional aura must be off at this moment.

“You haven’t lately. What’s wrong, Avon? I might be able to help.”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, let me be the judge.”

“What did Blake tell you?”

“He didn’t talk to me about the mission, Avon.”

Avon looked up and held her gaze. “I’m really not in the mood for games.”

Cally gave a little nod. “Only that he thought it better to keep you and Vila separated for the time being.”

“And of course you didn’t question his reasons.”

“I know you and Vila haven’t always seen eye to eye –”

“Oh, so now it is _our_ fault?!” Avon pushed himself to his feet. “I am not listening to this. You can take the shift.”

“Avon, wait.”

To Avon’s own surprise, he actually stopped, finding himself just beside his usual station. He settled a hand on the smooth padding of the chair. “Well?”

“Blake only means to protect you – both of you.”

“Yes. And he’s clearly doing wonderful job, isn’t he. I will be in the computer central if anyone needs me. Enjoy the watch.”

Avon did walk down all the way to the computer central, where it occurred to him that it might be a bad idea to make any changes to the system when they were rapidly approaching a dangerous section of space Blake had every intention of flying into. It was true, the auto-repair system was perfectly capable of fixing any major errors he made, but it took time, and as much as Avon wanted to vent his anger on a system that repaired itself, time was something they didn’t really have.

In the end there was nothing else he could do, and so he settled down in front of the command console – really, bringing a chair down here had been one of the better decisions he had made lately – and watched as the _Liberator_ ran and processed line after line of code. He hadn’t expected the alien spaceship to adhere to the Federation programming languages with which he was familiar, of course, though there were still enough similarities so as to make it not wholly incomprehensible. Certainly on the binary level Avon could trace very well what was going on, and he usually used that to make his own inputs as well, though it was unnecessarily laborious. Still, he was gradually becoming accustomed to the _Liberator_ ’s programming on the language code level, too – learning which term designated which system and how the command chain functioned. He had experimented with it in a small way, under Orac’s supervision, to turn the lights in his cabin off and on, to vary the heat or vent the oxygen in isolated and uninhabited rooms. He hadn’t yet dared touch any of the more complex systems, such as the teleport or the engines, let alone the central life support, not even with Orac to check that he wasn’t breaking anything essential. Over time, speaking the _Liberator_ ’s code would certainly become useful – especially in the event that Zen was damaged or refused cooperation again, but so far Avon had to content himself with being able to fix the components on a hardware level. Still, watching the command code roll across the screen couldn’t do any harm, and would gradually familiarise him with the language. Already Avon could recognise sections of it – doors opening, lights going on and off, Zen’s voice command trigger and the regular self-diagnosis checks that ran through all the systems like clockwork.

He spent several hours before the console, looking for patterns he recognised and phrases of code he remembered. It wasn’t the most thrilling of activities, but it kept his mind occupied and away from… other matters, until his stomach uncomfortably reminded him that he had skipped breakfast and a glance at the chronometer told him that it would only be a little over twelve hours before they reached the _Gestures_.

The walk down to the recreation room was uncomfortable – Avon was very much not in the mood for company, but his mind teased him with snatches of Vila’s voice, distantly heard, where there was nothing, and memories of Vila’s grin over the chess board when they had last had the opportunity to spend some free time together. At this rate, Blake’s meddling was going to drive him insane faster than Blake’s unrelenting idealism.

The room was, mercifully, empty. Avon took some left-overs from the cooling unit, not particularly caring just _what_ it was that he was eating. It looked like an amalgamation of colourful vegetables – something Vila wouldn’t have objected to, not that they had felt any need to adjust their eating habits after the other. It was rare enough that they had opportunity to eat together, anyway. Avon let his glance linger for a moment on the half-empty jug of mystery juice – but even if he was, _yes_ , missing Vila even after seeing him only eight hours prior, he wasn’t quite ready to risk tasting it.

For a moment, Avon considered taking his meal to the flight deck, but he opted for his cabin instead. If they were about to fly into the _Gestures of Idleness_ , it might pay off to try getting at least a little more sleep. The zone’s exact dimensions weren’t known because of its shifting nature, but Orac’s best estimate had been so expansive that they would travel awhile even at _Liberator_ ’s top speed. With the treacherous navigational obstacles they _already_ knew about, it was more likely that they would be going very slowly. To reach the zone’s centre would be a matter of many hours, and the way back wouldn’t be any shorter. Chances were, Avon wouldn’t have the opportunity to sleep for even an hour at a time once they got there.

This time, it was his own alarm that woke him. “Zen, give me a quick update?”

“Arrival at destination in one hour, thirty minutes. No new data was gained in the approach.”

Avon nodded, even though he knew it was a pointless gesture when it came to Zen, and made his way to the flight deck. Blake would be there now – and possibly most of the others, too, or they would be soon enough. There was something to be said for Blake’s missions – they had the advantage of giving the _Liberator_ a full crew compliment on the flight deck, instead of their usual single or double shifts, and Avon could focus on what he did best: keeping an eye on the computers that were keeping them all alive.

The flight deck was comparatively silent. Blake was seated on the sofa, watching the approach on the small screen. Cally had joined him there – it wasn’t as though communications were required at the moment. Jenna, of course, was at the pilot’s station, though Avon knew the _Liberator_ was as yet running on automatics. The _Gestures_ were looming large on the screen – grey and green bands of the nebula, drifting with what Avon knew to be considerable speed, and interspersed with dark, almost black dots – the asteroids.     

“Avon, good of you to join us,” Blake said, barely even turning around.

Avon ignored him, distracted by the fact that Vila was manning Avon’s station. It was a relief to see Vila – even if the thief looked tired and downtrodden, and inched out of Avon’s way without meeting his eyes. Vila’s name sat at the tip of Avon’s tongue, but he bit it down, opting to, instead, brush his hand as if by chance against Vila’s where he held onto the console on his way down.

Vila’s eyes flicked to his for a second at that, the shadow of smile dancing in them, but he didn’t hesitate – didn’t dare hesitate, Avon was sure – before moving across the flight deck to his own station. If anyone of the others had witnessed the gesture, they didn’t say anything.

“Fascinating,” intoned Orac suddenly, disrupting the silence.

“What is?” Avon demanded, because talking to a machine was always safer than human interaction, especially when he wasn’t feeling his best.

“There is considerable gravitational and sensory anomaly in the zone.”

“Oh, that sounds fantastic. Sensory anomalies – Blake, are you sure this is worth the risk? We could be flying entirely blind, and the _Liberator_ is not a small ship.”

Surprised, Avon glanced towards Jenna. “You took your time to develop doubts.”

“Orac, could that happen? Could we be flying blind if we enter the _Gestures_?” Blake asked, his gaze still fixed on the viewscreen.

“There is such possibility. However, I have insufficient data to determine it with any certainty.”

“So we might be fine.”

“Or we might not be. As long as you know whose life you are risking, Blake,” Avon said, but kept his eyes on the console. All systems read fine – so far.

He could still hear Blake shift around on the bench to glare at him. “There are some risks we _must_ take. You know that – you all do. If things start going wrong, we will turn back.”

“Let’s get it over with, then,” Jenna said, and switched to partial manual –

Only for a loud alarm to boom into their ears.

“Zen! What is going on?!”

“Pursuit ships!” Vila exclaimed, staring at his console in shock. “They came out of nowhere, Blake!”

Blake was on his feet, hurrying to Vila’s side. “Five of them!”

“Are they within firing range?”

“Confirmed.”

“Zen, recommendations!”

“The only direction for evasion is the alpha sector.”

“Straight ahead?” Vila asked.

Avon looked over, baring his teeth – now that Blake was standing there, it didn’t feel quite so awkward. “Straight into the _Gestures_.”

Blake grimaced. “We might be able to shake them off.”

“Plasma bolt running,” Zen advised with its regular indifference.

“That decides it. I’m taking us in.” Jenna flicked a few switches – going to full manual, and directed the _Liberator_ straight ahead, towards a gap between two large asteroids.

The first plasmabolt missed them narrowly, disappearing into the zone to the left of them.

Cally had made her way up to her own station: “Two more bolts off and running!”

“Do we fire?” Vila.

“We can’t fight off five pursuit ships.” Blake.

“Closing…” Cally.

“Zen! Shields!” Blake again.

A plasmabolt rocked the ship, and then there was a sudden sideways lurch that almost threw Avon from his station. “What was that?!”

“Gravitational well – that asteroid.” Jenna. “I can compensate.”

“Zen, are those pursuit ships following us?” Blake.

“No – they’ve slowed down!” Cally.

“They have more sense than we’ve got!” Vila.

“Jenna, take us out of range and then slow us down – carefully.”

“Fascinating.”

Avon was tempted to pull Orac’s key, but that would have meant moving from his station where there was at least something to hold onto. “If you have nothing productive to contribute, Orac, _be silent_.”

Even over the creaking of the ship, Avon could hear Orac’s angry whirr. “Oh, very well.”

At least their flight path looked clear – if one discounted the dust particles of the nebula that were scraping against the hull at high speed – and the ship seemed to be running stably.

Blake climbed up behind Vila’s station to step beside Jenna. “How is she handling, Jenna?”

“It’s going all right. There are a few gravity wells–” Jenna reached out to adjust something “– but I can compensate.”

“Great. So let us see what the _Gestures_ have to hide.”

“Now that we’re already here, you mean?” Vila said, panicked edge still in his voice. Avon couldn’t blame him.

Blake, however, merely glanced down towards Vila for a second. “Exactly.”

Over the next minutes, Avon kept a close eye on the pursuit ships in their rear – the sensors, as yet, seemed to be functioning fine, and the ships weren’t going anywhere. Eventually, one by one, they turned and vanished from the sensors.

“The pursuit ships are gone,” Cally announced at the same time as Avon switched back to the standard readout of his console, satisfied.

Blake had at least been right about one thing – the Federation had no interest in penetrating the zone.

“They will report our presence to central command, of course,” Avon said, “I, for one, would like to know how they could get so close without us seeing them.”

 “I _swear_ they weren’t on the sensors before Zen gave the alarm. I was keeping an eye,” Vila said, and their eyes met across the flight deck.

“I know that, Vila,” Avon replied, tearing his gaze away. “If the Federation have developed some way to trick our sensors…”

“We can deal with that later.” Blake was using _that_ tone again, the one that forestalled any kind of argument. “Whatever they might have developed, they can’t follow us in here.”

“Or they could be assembling a battle fleet for when we come back out right at this moment. It might be wise to travel straight through the zone instead of turning back.”

“I’d be glad not to have to turn around in here,” Jenna chimed in. “She’s handling fine right now, Blake, but the gravity wells are getting worse. I keep getting strange blips just on the edge of sensor range.”

“I’m getting them, too,” Cally said.

“Orac’s sensory anomalies?” Blake abandoned his position by Jenna’s side and walked down towards the computer. “Orac, analysis?”

“The sensory data is of great scientific interest.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“Then you will have to phrase your questions more precisely.”

“What are these blips on our sensors?”

“Inconclusive data.”

 Avon couldn’t exactly say the answer came as a surprise to him. “Is there any danger to the ship, Orac?”

“Inconclusive data.”

“Of course.”

“Let us know immediately if you _do_ have conclusive data, Orac,” Blake instructed, and returned to his viewing position on the sofa.

For over two hours, nothing much happened. All systems remained green, and apart from a few sudden turns to avoid asteroids that appeared from within the dust, it was smooth flying. After running a complete systems check for the umpteenth time, and finding nothing, Avon leant back in his chair and told himself to relax. The _Gestures_ were aesthetically beautiful, but he couldn’t shake a bad feeling. Things were going too smoothly for the Federation to have avoided this section for so long.

“I don’t like it,” Vila said into the silence, drawing Avon from his contemplation. “Can’t you sense anything, Cally?”

“No. Everything is fine, Vila.”

“It doesn’t seem right. Why would the Federation avoid this place if there was nothing wrong with it?”

Under other circumstances, Avon would have shot Vila an appreciative glance across the flight deck – his thoughts exactly – but with Blake’s gaze on him, he thought it better to refrain.

“Perhaps they were mistaken,” Blake offered. “They have made mistakes before.”

“It seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”

“We can be lucky some of the time, Vila.”

 _Some of the time?_ , Avon had been about to say when the _Liberator_ lurched sideways, this time cleanly throwing him off his chair and uncomfortably against the sharp-edged rear of the flight sofa. Avon pulled himself back to his feet, glancing over the console, before taking a moment to dust off his hands. There _seemed_ to be nothing wrong, and both Zen and Orac remained silent.

Jenna had remained standing, a grim frown of concentration on her face.

Vila, too, had fallen from his station, but was already scrambling back to his feet, apparently none the worse for wear. “What did I tell you!”

“Jenna, what was it?” Blake, of course, had been sitting down and had barely been affected at all.

“I’m not sure. There is nothing on the sensors. I’m having trouble compensating. Looks like the ride’s going to get a little more bumpy, but I can handle it.”

Blake nodded. “How far are we inside the zone?”

“About a third, by Orac’s best estimate of its dimensions,” Avon told him. “If there is indeed a star system in the middle, we might be getting close.”

Vila shuffled his feet. “Stars are enormous – shouldn’t we been able to see it already?”

“In this location, it is not going to be an ordinary star.”

True to Jenna’s word, the flight did get a lot bumpier the further they came. Avon was picking up on odd sensory echoes now, too, and his instinct was telling him that things were about to go wrong very soon, but Orac kept insisting that there was no detectable danger, and Jenna, despite jolting them about every few minutes, claimed to have everything under control. Blake had his gaze fixed on the screen, whether in anxiety or anticipation Avon couldn’t tell, and Vila… Vila looked nervous and slightly pale about his nose, his gaze flicking between the screen and Jenna to Avon and away again if he found that Avon was looking his way.

After the next lurch, he gave a groan. “If you keep this up, I’m going to be sick.”

“Not on the flight deck, Vila,” Blake said, almost good-naturedly.

“Perhaps I ought to go to the medical unit. Avon can come along to make sure I’m all right,” Vila suggested, making Avon freeze with the audacity of the suggestion.

He wouldn’t have minded – of course not, any moment away from the oppressive atmosphere of the flight deck _and_ alone with Vila would have been a much needed respite – but knowing Blake he would misinterpret Vila’s intention.

“Cally can go with you,” Blake said, as if on cue, and without so much as turning around. “I need Avon at his station.”

Vila looked disappointed, throwing a crestfallen look Avon’s way, but he eased out of his station nonetheless when Cally arrived at his side, and they headed off together, nearly falling on the steps when Jenna failed to compensate for another gravitational shift.

Jenna looked increasingly displeased. “It feels like we’re being pushed – if we weren’t in space, I’d say it was wind.”

“One which is rapidly shifting directions, if appearances are anything to go by,” Avon said. Vila might have had the right idea – Avon didn’t appreciate being shaken about much either, and there was no telling to which side the _Liberator_ would jolt next. “All things considered, this is still very smooth running. Orac?”

“Inconclusive data.”

“I’m getting really tired of hearing that,” Blake said. “Surely there must be some data by now?”

“Nothing as pertains to the risk to this vessel,” Orac declared pompously, and fell silent again with a busy whirr.

“ _If_ we find Gestus Alpha, what then?”

Blake finally shifted around to look back at Avon. “We will investigate it.”

“You want to use the teleport? In these conditions?”

“Is there any indication it might not work?”

“Other than the fact that it wasn’t built for an environment about which the most we know is _inconclusive data_? Haven’t you risked our skin enough?”

“We will decide when we get there.”

“By which you mean, you will decide.”

“Very well, _I_ will decide. I don’t think you are quite in a position to argue the morality of choices at the moment, Avon.”

And so it came back to this. Avon had had well and truly enough. “How many times do I have to tell you, Blake–”

 He never got around to finishing his sentence.


	2. Chapter 2

The _Liberator_ jerked, jolted, and then _dropped_ , throwing Avon against the bulkhead across the corridor, the intense sensation of _falling_ in his stomach. Some type of gravitational force was pressing him to the floor, making breathing difficult, and for a moment, his vision whited out completely.

When he came to himself, Jenna was just climbing back into the pilot’s seat. “Gravity well – just below us. We’re stabilising.”

Avon’s head, for one, was still spinning, but he gritted his teeth and pulled himself back to his console – and immediately snapped his head up again to look at the screen. “Blake! Look!”

The mirky, dusty cloud was dissolving as they moved forward, and there it was – a white dwarf of a star, small by comparison, but still large and bright enough to fill almost the entire viewscreen, and a single planet in its orbit.

Blake came to his feet. “Jenna! Slow us down!”

“I’m taking her into orbit around that planet.”

“Gestus Alpha,” Blake said, awe in his voice.

“Apparently so.”

“What’s going on?” Vila, looking no less pale, and Cally had returned. Vila slid into his chair, eyes on the screen. “Is that it? Eldorado? Doesn’t look like much.”

“Should a star this old still have a planet?” Jenna asked, and breathed a sigh. “Orbit achieved. I’m switching over to automatics.”

Blake nodded. “Zen, maintain orbit.”

“Confirmed.”

“As Orac keeps reminding us, there is very little data about this region. This might well be the only star system of its kind,” Avon mused. He wasn’t above pure scientific interest, he had to admit – but the legends that surrounded this place were prominent in his mind. Now that they had found it – with only a small bit of discomfort and all of _Liberator_ ’s systems still functioning just fine – he _was_ curious.

“What do you think, Avon? Can we risk the teleport?”

“We should do some additional scans first, but as space here seems clear of disturbance I don’t see why not.”

Blake looked almost too pleased at the answer, truly smiling for the first time in the last few days – as far as Avon had seen. Curious.

The next hour was occupied with gathering and evaluating sensory data – and wrenching Orac away from his scientific analyses for long enough to actually supply Avon with data on whether it would be safe for them to go down to the surface. Jenna used the opportunity to excuse herself for a bit of rest – _well deserved_ , as Blake had it, after flying the _Liberator_ on manual for so long – and Cally walked along with her. Vila followed shortly after them, to get something to eat, he said. How Vila could eat after nearly being sick not an hour ago was a mystery to Avon, but he was too distracted to dwell on it. By all the sensory data he was receiving, the planet was a veritable paradise: There was low seismic activity, moderate weather – the average temperature was comfortably warm, in fact – there was no significant animal life but ample vegetation, and every type of mineral and power-conductive crystal he could have wished for was easily accessible on the surface. He imagined Vila would be thrilled to explore the beach Avon had found – the ocean of a pH level and temperature more than welcoming to humans – though he didn’t voice the thought. He also refrained from mentioning the river that showed a high concentration of gold washed to its banks to Blake, who was asking Orac his own questions about the planet – were there areas suited for human occupation, even a permanent settlement? Could the land be farmed? How were the odds of turning it into a true refuge for the dissidents of the Federation? It seemed too good to be true.

That was before Avon found the energy signature.

“Blake, look at this. Orac, forty-six degrees south, about sixty west.”

“Interesting,” Orac said immediately.

Blake stepped beside Avon, glancing at his screen. “What am I looking at?”

“An energy signature. It’s reasonably strong.”

“Artificial?”

“Of course.”

“What is it? Orac?”

“Sensory data would suggest a building complex with an advanced computer system.”

“Can you read it?”

“It does not seem to be tariel cell based.”

Avon allowed himself a little smirk at Orac’s obvious irritation at that. “Not quite as untouched as we thought, then.”

“Is anyone down there?”

“There are no significant signs of life,” Orac said.

Blake rocked back on his heels. “Abandoned, then?”

“All evidence would suggest that to be the case, yes.”

“Could it be shielded?” Blake asked, in one of his rarer moments of caution.

“It seems unproductive to develop a shield that effectively hides any sign of life but leaved the energy signature unmasked, doesn’t it?”

“Unless it’s a trap. Can you give us any more information, Orac?”

“There is no indication of a shield.”

Blake looked far too pleased. “Well, since we’re here anyway…”

“Oh yes, we are here now, aren’t we?”

If Blake made anything of Avon’s remark, he didn’t show it. “Will you contact the others? I’ll be glad for a chance to stretch my legs.”

Avon nodded, sending an automated call for attention out through the ship which would bring the others to the flight deck, and eased out of his station.

“Where are you going?” Blake asked, abruptly.

“To my cabin, to change into surface clothes, of course.”

Blake wouldn’t meet his eyes. That, Avon thought, couldn’t be a good sign. “I want you on board the _Liberator_.”

“Why? There is nothing to do up here, and there is a _computer_ down there – probably a highly sophisticated one, running on model none of us are familiar with. You’ll need me.”

“I need you up here in case something goes wrong. I’ll take Cally, and Vila – there might be locked doors.”

“I’ve had enough of this, Blake!” Avon pushed down the raw anger, the raw _pain_ , and moved closer, deliberately getting into Blake’s space. He disliked having to look up to meet Blake’s eyes, but _this_ was getting out of hand – and might get all of them killed. “You _know_ you should be taking Vila _and_ me! How little you must really think of my character if you think I cannot for a moment restrain myself from forcing myself on Vila, even after I have already told you that I have no interest in sex!” Now _that_ hadn’t been quite what he intended to say – _have sex with Vila_ , maybe, but not such a categorical denial. He certainly hadn’t planned to reveal anything to Blake – their self-appointed leader had done _nothing_ to deserve that trust of late.

Blake’s eyes blazed – he wasn’t backing down. “Set the teleport coordinates. I’ll brief the others.”

There was no point in arguing – Blake wasn’t listening, trusting his misguided instinct over anything Avon could do or say. It wasn’t as though Blake had any proof to back up his conjecture. Avon and Vila hadn’t shown _any_ physical affection in public, hadn’t done anything other than shared a joke – perhaps that hadn’t aided Blake’s conclusion that there was no romantic or emotional attachment between them. But then, Blake wouldn’t even have been _able_ to catch Avon and Vila in the act, as it were – not even having _consensual_ sex. Vila had made it quite clear that he was content to not have any unless _Avon_ decided to indulge him – which Avon thought he might, given the time, if their relationship was allowed to progress – not because he felt any urge, naturally; just for the closeness and to see that private look of happiness in Vila’s eyes. The way things were going now, he wouldn’t even get the opportunity to _interact_ with Vila, let alone indulge in _any_ type of relationship.

Yes, he hadn’t been _this_ angry at Blake for a long time – perhaps not even once since he’d met the man.

The best Avon could muster was a look of complete contempt before he walked off the flight deck, brushing against the returning Jenna as he went – she called after him quizzically, but he ignored her, hurrying his steps.

The teleport area was, absurdly, something of a sanctuary. Avon had spent many hours in the room, taking apart the system from the ground up, and even though it was in many ways the busiest area of the _Liberator_ and he had been held at gunpoint in it more than once, Avon felt comfortable there.

He slid onto the bench, taking a few moments just to breathe and control the anger without letting it slip so far that the pain under it all might become visible. The fact that _Vila_ had seemed miserable didn’t help, either. Without an opportunity to talk to the thief in private, there was little Avon could do to assure him that _he_ had no interest in putting an end to their relationship, no matter what Blake might hurl at him – then again…

Avon swiftly set the coordinates to be ready for whenever Blake showed up, and bent down to open up a small compartment in the leg of the console. In it, he kept a variety of tools, and a little device that generated digestible tracking devices. From Avon’s tests, they emitted a strong enough signal to be picked up from orbit, but would decay in human stomach fluid within a day without any adverse effects. Under ordinary circumstances, Avon saw little use in them – the teleport bracelets could be tracked, after all, and without them, whoever had left the ship was in serious danger at any rate, but if Blake couldn’t trust _him_ with Vila, Avon saw no reason to trust _Blake_ with Vila in turn. Avon prepared the tracer with just a few adjustments to the machine, and held it loosely in his hand. There would be very little time to slip it to Vila, but Vila was as gifted at sleights of hand as he was as a lock pick, and his attention _would_ be on Avon. That way, at least Avon could be sure that Vila remained where his teleport bracelet was.

As it happened, Avon could hear Vila before he heard Blake or any of their steps echoing through _Liberator_ ’s corridors. “What do you mean, there might be locked doors?”

Cally was the first in the room, sending Avon a slightly strained smile and heading straight for the teleport bracelets.

“It is hidden complex, possibly alien,” Blake said, following next. He looked and sounded infuriatingly calm. “It stands to reason that there will be doors.”

Vila followed hot on his heels, stopping just by the teleport console. “But why do _I_ need to go? There’s a computer down there, and Avon can open those doors well enough.”

Under normal circumstances, Avon would have smiled at the not-quite-compliment. These weren’t normal circumstances, and so he kept a close eye on Vila’s hands instead.

“Avon isn’t coming,” Blake told Vila, and then turned away towards the bracelets.

“He isn’t?” Vila asked, sounding genuinely surprised and not a little uncomfortable, but he glanced towards Avon, and Blake was still turned away – Avon reached across the console, and dropped the tracer into Vila’s palm. Vila caught his eyes, surprised, but Avon leant casually back, directing his gaze deliberately at Blake’s back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vila’s fist closing on the small capsule.

“I need Avon on board in case something goes wrong,” Blake answered, distractedly fiddling with the teleport bracelets. He hadn’t seen a thing.

Avon found himself smiling – perhaps it was more sardonic than genuine, but still, some tension drained from him. “Who knows, I might finally have time to _eat_ something.” He had no intention of leaving the teleport area, but Avon knew even without looking his way that Vila had caught on to his undue emphasis. Vila could be very quick-witted if he chose to be.

“As long as someone is keeping watch on the flight deck and the teleport,” Blake said, oblivious. “Now get a bracelet, Vila.”

“You expect things to go wrong, then?” Vila asked, smoothly dropping into his nervous persona. He took his bracelet from Cally, and when Blake turned to stride into the teleport, Avon watched Vila swallow, hard. As usual, Vila’s remarks went ignored.

“Jenna is up on the flight deck now,” Blake told Avon as the two others joined him. “I expect one of you and Orac to keep an eye out for any anomalies and calls from us at all time.”

“Naturally.” Avon casually flicked a switch, feeding the coordinates into the teleport system. “I’m putting you down just outside the boundaries of the complex according to Orac’s data. The climate should be pleasant enough.”

Blake nodded, a faint trace of confusion at Avon’s jovial attitude shining in his eyes. “Put us down.”

Avon directed his attention towards the console, and set the process in motion. Just as the teleport beam took them, he caught Vila’s eye and allowed himself a miniscule smile. And then they were gone, and Avon was alone in the teleport room again.

Moments later, Blake’s voice came through the comm system: “Down and safe.”

 _For how long?_ Avon wondered, with an unexpected pang of worry. He wasn’t usually prone to worrying, and they had certainly been in situations that looked far more dangerous from the outset and they had _still_ gone down. Whatever the _Gestures_ were, the eye of the storm seemed harmless enough, and Vila was well accustomed to automated security systems, even those of the alien variety. With no significant lifeforms and no natural hazards, the three of them should be safe enough. Though if anything should happened to Vila now, Avon was sure he wouldn’t forgive Blake anytime soon.

“Will keep you updated,” Blake said, and then the connection cut off.

The tracer, at least, was working fine, twinning the pings of Vila’s teleport bracelet as they moved towards the compound.

Avon activated the internal communication unit. “Jenna.”

“What is it, Avon?” She had, of course, heard Blake’s confirmation as well as he had, and knew that the three of them were safely down on the surface.

“Blake wants one of us on the flight deck at all time – as do I, as a matter of fact. Can you manage up there? I’ll stay by the teleport.”

“Do you expect something to go wrong?”

Did he? Avon wasn’t quite sure himself. “It has all seemed too easy up until now, don’t you think?”

“I hope it stays that way,” Jenna responded, with a light chuckle. “I’ll be all right up here.”

“Good.” Avon cut the connection and leant back. There was little he could do but wait and keep an eye on the radar, watching the four signals from the surface. If he’d had Orac down here with him, he might have been able to get a bit more detail about what was going on down on the surface, but Orac was still on the flight deck – hopefully keeping an eye out for any anomalies.

“Avon,” the comm unit chimed to life with Jenna’s voice.

“What is it?”

“I’m getting these occasional echoes on the sensors again. Orac says they’re nothing, but if they turn out to be something, we might have to get out quick.”

Avon leaned over immediately and readied the teleport. One flick of a switch, and he would be able to bring them back onboard. “I can teleport the others up as soon as that happens.”

“Stay ready.”

“I will,” he answered grimly.

There were a few minutes of aimless waiting before the communication came to life again – Avon regretted not bringing anything to occupy himself but his own mind, so he’d taken to toying with a laser probe, but sat up immediately.

It was Blake: “We found a door and got it opened. Everything looks unused. We’re going in now.”

Avon briefly considered mentioning the sensory blips, but decided against it. They had been there before, and had turned out to be nothing. “All right,” was all he said instead and he continued playing with the probe.

The teleport radar wasn’t particularly accurate – while the coordinates themselves could be set to the meter, the tracking was only accurate to about ten or slightly more, and Blake and the others seemed to moving with excessive slowness and care. That, at least, was something.

At any rate, Avon first noticed that Vila’s teleport signal and tracer signal had fallen out of sync after about half an hour of nothing.

Blake had continued to call in regularly and reported finding many empty rooms and corridors, but nothing of interest as yet. According to Orac’s estimate, they _were_ moving towards the computer core, but whatever the facility was, it didn’t seem to be in active use.

Avon put down the tool he’d been playing with and watched the signals closely for a minute – both the tracer and bracelet were still emitting from the same location, but where they had been exactly a second apart before, the bracelet now transmitted at irregular intervals in relation to the tracer. Perhaps he was being overly cautious – one signal or the other might easily have been delayed by a layer of clouds in the atmosphere, or a slight hiccough in the hardware – but Avon opened up the communication channel to the surface anyway. “What’s going on?”

“Avon, I was just about to call in.” Blake sounded calm and entirely unconcerned. “There has been nothing so far – though the compound could provide living space and shelter for a lot of people. We have found another locked door – Vila is opening it now.”

Of course, he couldn’t tell Blake about the tracer. Something vague would have to do. “According to Orac’s estimate, you might be close to the computer central. Be careful.”

“We will be. Blake out,” Blake said, just as Avon could hear Vila giving a little exclamation of triumph in the background. Well. At least Vila _did_ have something to do.

Avon kept a close eye on the radar in the next minutes, but the tracer and bracelet signal had jumped back into sync – some atmospheric disturbance, after all, it seemed. Tentatively, Avon relaxed.

It was Cally who called in next: “There is a computer here, but it seems to function entirely automatically. There are no controls that we can see.”

Avon frowned to himself – there were _always_ controls, if only for maintenance purposes. Even Orac had an activator key. Still, a computer that was still running in a compound that had been abandoned however long ago had to be fairly low maintenance, and energy sufficient. It might be worth figuring out where the compound got its energy from. The light of the white dwarf star was only just enough to supply the _Liberator_ ’s highly sophisticated solar panels, and that was without the atmosphere between them. “Anything of interest?” he asked Cally.

“Not that we can see. The computer seems to be monitoring light and air circulation only, and all we have come across were empty rooms, some small like bedrooms, some quite large.”

Blake’s perfect base, then. Avon’s frown deepened, a rush of suspicion rising up to his throat. It was all too good to be true. “Well, there is nothing else I can tell you from up here. Orac doesn’t have anything to report. Do you want to come back up?”

It was Blake who answered: “Yes. I think we have seen everything down here for now. Can you pick us up from here, or do we need to head outside?”

“Where you are will be fine. There is no shielding.” Avon readied the teleport, putting in the coordinates. “All set?”

“Bring us up, Avon.”

As he flipped the switch, something out of the corner of his eye registered as _wrong_ – but he only realised what it was when the figures coalesced on the platform and there were only two. Avon was on his feet immediately.

“Where is Vila?” He didn’t care, just at that moment, that his voice had become so very low and very threatening that Cally, through her worry, was sending him a puzzled glance.

Blake just looked astonished, moving off the platform. “He was right there with us.”

Avon looked at the radar – Vila’s tracer and bracelet were suddenly wildly out of sync, and nowhere near in the same place. He reset the teleport, trying it again. No Vila – only a faint whirr that could indicate only one thing. “He isn’t wearing his bracelet.”

“But that is impossible!” Cally said, leaning over the console herself. “I was looking right at him when you brought us up; he was definitely wearing the bracelet.”

Avon tightened one hand around the edge of the console. “According to this–” he waved a hand at the radar “– Vila is nowhere near his bracelet.” With one step, Avon was by the rack of teleport bracelets and had closed one around his wrist, picking up a spare. He wasn’t wearing surface clothes and had no weapon on him apart from the laser probe he’d stuck into his pocket earlier, but Vila might not have the luxury to wait.

Avon had pocketed the mobile locator for the tracer, but there was no telling how long the sensors had been feeding him misinformation, and whether the information he was receiving now was any more accurate – he _had_ been able to hear Vila earlier, but they had moved a considerable distance since. Sooner or later, the tracer in Vila’s stomach would decay and stop sending entirely, and with it his only way of even estimating where Vila was. Whatever Cally had seen before coming up, it hadn’t been Vila any more than what the sensors were showing Avon then had been correct. “I’m going down.”

“Avon–”

Avon spun around to Blake, letting his anger have free rein. “ _This_ is your fault. If you had listened to Vila _or_ me earlier, we might have discovered much sooner that the sensors weren’t functioning properly! Certainly I might have noticed Vila’s disappearance if I’d gone to the surface with you! But _you_ were far too preoccupied with ignoring both of us and accusing me of rape!” Avon could hear Cally gasp, but this wasn’t the time. Stepping back from Blake, he entered the teleport platform. “Put me down outside the compound, if that’s what it is, Cally. Where you just came from might not be safe.”

“Avon, you don’t even have a weapon.”

Avon just snarled at her. “Neither does Vila. Now put me _down_.”

The familiar sensation of the teleport enveloped him, and when it let him go, Avon immediately dropped into a protective stance, lower to the ground. There was nothing in sight, but it wasn’t exactly the moderate-climate paradise they’d been let to believe it was, either. Of course, that would have been too easy. There was no telling what was an illusion and what reality – it was a neat trap, he had to admit. No wonder none of the ships that had made it this far had returned with the riches of _Eldorado_ in their holds. Perhaps Blake had just managed to kill them, after all.

Avon shivered in the frigid wind that was blasting across the desolate landscape, barely slowed down by the sad looking brush and the rare, windswept trees. He pulled the portable tracker from his pocket, wondering whether he could or should trust that reading. There was no trace of the compound – of course not, it had been part of the illusion, just appealing enough to lure in humanoids looking for a camp. The tracker was also still picking up that energy signature in the roughly same direction as the tracer – so perhaps that had been real, after all. It was as good a direction to head in as any.

Avon brought his bracelet to his mouth and hit the communication button. “Down and safe. It doesn’t look quite as inviting anymore, but I think I know which way to go.”

“Avon,” came the distorted reply – Cally. “Blake has gone to the flight deck to fetch another weapon – at least wait until he can get back down to you.”

“No. I don’t want him. Tell him to look after _my_ ship, so he doesn’t lose _it_ like he lost my thief. Avon out.” Avon cut the connection with an angry hit on the button – though all that accomplished was hurting his own wrist – and set off at a quick pace. At least the wind was in his back. He hadn’t quite meant to sound as possessive as he had – though Vila frequently told him that he liked it – but Avon was beyond caring what the others thought. If Blake had managed to lose him Vila _now_ …

He hadn’t gone very far when his teleport bracelet chirped. Avon ignored it for three more chirps, feeling no desire at all to even _hear_ Blake, let alone talk to him, until it occurred to him that there might be something wrong with the _Liberator_. He opened the comm link. “What?”

“Avon…” Of course it was Blake – sounding hesitant, so no danger to the ship as yet.

“You have better things to do than harassing me,” he told him. “Avon out.” Avon could hear a faint “Avon, wait!”, as he lowered the bracelet and cut the connection in the same movement. He wasn’t interested in Blake’s justifications or excuses. Perhaps what he was doing _was_ uncharacteristically reckless, but with the _Liberator_ ’s sensors impaired, what else remained but to come down and search on foot – regardless of the fact that what Avon was seeing now might not be any more real than the paradise and empty living space Blake had encountered earlier. Leaving Vila was out of the question.

Avon stopped, braced against the wind which the nearby tree really did nothing against, and consulted the tracker. Neither of the signals had moved, which he considered a good sign, but by all accounts they should be within visual range now. Yes, the wind was stirring up clouds of fine dust, but Avon couldn’t even make out so much as a shape ahead. He pocketed the tracker, holding his now free hand over the teleport bracelet instead. He might have to get out quickly.

He hadn’t taken five steps away from the tree when the ground suddenly vanished under his feet, the whole environment changing as he fell, a startled cry stuck in his throat. Scrambling for something to hold onto was futile, and Avon only just had enough presence of mind to pull his arm with the bracelets to his chest to protect the delicate equipment from impact – really, he thought fleetingly, they were far too fragile and easy to break, but he hadn’t had time to come up with a better design – and tuck in his head and roll across his shoulder when he hit the ground.

Avon wasn’t an athlete, and his back would hardly thank him for the move later, but he came to rest on his back on rocky ground relatively unharmed, if with a few scrapes and bruises and thoroughly winded.

“Avon?”

For a moment, Avon thought the voice had come from one of the teleport bracelets – until the light of a pencil torch hit his face, and Vila’s form swam into focus behind it. Avon sat up, brushing himself off absentmindedly – taking stock. Nothing seemed to be wrong. “Hello, Vila.” It took everything he had not to break into a grin there and then – there was still a chance that this Vila, too, was an illusion. There was no way he could know until he checked the tracker, the weight of which, thankfully, was still in his pocket.

“You found me!” Vila said, somehow sounding overjoyed and weary at the same time.

“We’ll see.” Avon pulled out the tracker, and Vila shifted his light onto it.

“What’s that?”

Avon breathed a sigh – Vila’s tracer was indicated to be right in front of him. Unless both his eyes and his equipment were deceiving him, he had, indeed, found Vila. The relief was surprisingly overwhelming. He turned to screen towards Vila, and finally, finally, allowed himself to grin. “I found you.”

Vila’s eyes flicked to the little screen, and the pulsating indicator on it, breaking into a smile of his own that reached all the way into his eyes. “The thing you made me swallow was a tracer!”

“Yes.” Avon reached out his hand, and Vila pulled him to his feet. The thief was reassuringly solid and warm, even if his knuckles were scraped bloody and there was a gash near his eyebrow. Vila’s face was barely visible in the small circle of light of the pencil torch, but the trail of dried blood was still apparent.

“Wish I’d known. When I lost my bracelet, I thought I’d rot down here.” Vila’s hand lingered in Avon’s, but Avon couldn’t exactly say that he minded.

“What happened, Vila?”

“I opened that door – when you called in to check on us? When I stepped through, everything went dark and I was falling. Must have lost my bracelet on the way down – mind you, I could have lost a lot more.” Vila pointed his light upwards. The light of the torch, so bright at close range, lost itself in the blackness. “It’s black as pitch down here, and with this the only light I didn’t go very far. Couldn’t find the bracelet either.”

Avon scanned Vila’s face, lingering for longer than was perhaps necessary at the scrape in his brow. It had bled heavily, but these wounds always did. “Are you all right, Vila?”

“Eh? Oh, this?” Vila tapped his temple. “Yeh. Bled for a bit, but it doesn’t hurt much anymore. What is this place, Avon?”

“I have no idea, and less inclination to find out. Here.” Avon passed him the spare bracelet. “Ready to go back up?”

Vila grimaced. “With the mood Blake’s been in, staying down here might be a better idea.”

Avon growled. “I’ll deal with Blake.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, eh? ‘s nice, in a way, having a protector; been enough times I could have used one and didn’t.” Vila grinned suddenly. “Only Blake’s missed I already had one this time ‘round.”

Avon squeezed his hand and then, reluctantly, let go to activate his bracelet. “ _Liberator_.”

“Avon! Finally!” At least Cally was back at the teleport, though she sounded tense. “I’ve been trying to contact you for over an hour!”

Now that couldn’t be right. Avon allowed himself a frown. Still – whatever web of illusions was at work here, it might well have tricked his perception of time, too. “I found Vila. Bring us up, Cally.”

The pull of the teleport was familiar and reassuring, as was the brightly lit teleport room that coalesced around them. Cally was at the console – alone and looking considerably anxious.

Avon stole a glance at the tracker as he stored away the bracelets – Vila and his tracer were still right by his side, where they should be, and the teleport console confirmed it.

Cally came forward from behind the console, her anxiety giving way to worry. “Vila, are you all right?”

“Just a few scrapes, that’s all. I’ve had worse.” Vila let her fuss for a moment, grimacing down at his clothes. He was covered head to toe in dust. “Could use a drink and a bath.”

Avon knew his own clothes couldn’t be in much better a state, and he would have been happy to join Vila in both. He felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. “I have a feeling there might not be time, Vila,” he said, softly.

“Would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” Vila mumbled, sounding about as resigned as Avon felt.

Cally glanced between them, almost apologetic. “The sensors have been going crazy since you went down. At first, it was only the change to the planet and those weird echoes, then the pursuit ships were back – but vanished when we fired at them. Then _your_ signal disappeared completely – it was gone for over an hour, we thought we’d lost both of you. Orac is still insisting nothing is wrong, as is Zen. Jenna says she cannot fly us out without being able to trust the sensors _or_ Orac and Zen – the asteroids in the nebula move too fast to navigate by visual.”

“Wonderful. Such a joy to come back to good news. So we’re still stuck?”

Cally nodded. “That seems to summarise the situation, Vila. So far, the problems at least have been limited to the sensors…”

Avon suppressed a sigh. “I need to talk to Orac – let Blake know we’re back, would you, Cally? Coming, Vila?”

“Yeh. I’m staying by your side this time.”

  

Blake leapt up from the sofa at their arrival, eyes darting immediately over Vila, who followed Avon straight to Orac.

“Vila! Are you all right?”

Vila looked at Avon over the machine for a moment, giving a little wink, and turned to Blake. “Oh, I’ve been better. Feel a bit sick, and this –” he laid a careful hand to his temple – “hurts a lot. Bled a lot, too. Might be why I’m feeling queasy, and I’ve got a headache coming on, too. But ‘s not like there’s every any time to rest on this ship, is there? Not even a drink to be had. The company’s been better, too, though this is a bit of an improvement.” He waved a hand at Avon. “Don’t often get to see him looking like that – or see him at all, come to think of it – do I?”

Avon, even as he gave Orac a cursory visual examination, trying to detect any faults, could observe Blake out of the corner of his eye, looking suitably chastised and apologetic. “Vila, I’m…”

“All right, Vila.” Avon straightened, sending a smile towards the thief and turning around just far enough to catch Blake’s eye. “Save your apology, Blake, until you are sure you mean it. Now what is going on?”

Blake visibly shook himself. “The sensors are going crazy. Zen says there is no technical fault; he won’t explain the faulty readings. Orac says nothing is wrong.”

“Well, it makes a change from _inconclusive data_ , at least. Perhaps you weren’t precise enough.” Avon turned back to Orac, brushing shoulders with Vila. “Orac, why are the sensors indicating things that aren’t actually there?”

Orac whirred testily. “Define _there_.”

“Physically existent, present in a way that is provable on repeated examination.”

“By that definition, everything the sensors have indicated is, or was, _there_.”

“I’m too tired to argue semantics, Orac.”

“It is _not_ semantics. The previous surface conditions were as real as the current ones are by all indications of equipment and direct observation.”

“What about the hole I fell into, then, eh? I certainly couldn’t see that.”

“Or the mirage of Vila we saw?” Blake added.

Vila looked up, surprised.

“The image of Vila Restal was an illusion, generated by your mind, as were the teleport and radar malfunctions by yours and Cally’s, Avon. Everything else did exist on the surface of the planet. There is no fault in the _Liberator_ ’s equipment.”

“So what, things on that planet are both there and not there at the same time?”

“That seems like an accurate assessment.”

Vila groaned. “This is making my head spin.”

“Orac, are there any precedents for this phenomenon?” Avon asked.

“None.”

“How do we access what is invisible now?”

“Unknown. At present, those conditions are not _there_.”

Avon let go of Orac’s casing. “Well. This certainly explains why nobody has yet returned with any spoils from _Eldorado_.”

Blake nodded. “And why the Federation lost interest.”

“Oooh, Cally, you are a saint!” Vila exclaimed suddenly, moving from Avon’s side – where the loss of contact was keenly felt – to intercept Cally, who had stepped onto the flight deck carrying two drinks.

She smiled kindly at Vila and handed him one of them. “Slowly, Vila. I have added a little soma against the headache.”

“I could kiss you! But, uh… I won’t. Isn’t Cally wonderful, Avon?”

Avon couldn’t have stopped the smile even if he’d wanted to. “Just have your drink, Vila.”

Vila returned to Avon’s side, nudging him just enough to announce his presence – Cally followed him, holding out the second drink to Avon. “You will both be dehydrated.”

Avon shook his head. “Thank you, Cally – I prefer to keep a clear head for now. Now, Orac – we need to be able to distinguish these mirages from objects that do have a presence. Suggestions?”

“There are no malfunctions in the equipment.”

“So you said.”

“Will it make a difference?” Jenna chimed in from the pilot’s station. “Even if the sensors are displaying the right thing, how will I know that I’m not seeing them wrong? I could be tricked into missing an entire planet, for all we know.”

“Well, Orac?”

“The issue is in the human component. Therefore, the solution is to eliminate the human component from the equation.”

“And hand over control to Orac? I don’t think so,” Blake said.

“I don’t like the idea much either.” Avon frowned, deep in thought, and only noticed that Vila had pressed his glass into Avon’s hand _and_ that Avon had actually taken a swallow from it when the sweet taste exploded on his tongue. Cally, he noticed, had looked on in amusement, but the sparkle in Vila’s eyes was almost worth it. Avon passed back the glass to the thief, feeling, admittedly, slightly better for the cool moisture running down his throat. “Orac, how can you be sure that the problem is entirely in the human component? There is no precedent to this situation – might it not be that what your sensors perceive is not, or has not been, in fact the reality?”

Orac hummed angrily. “The _reality_ of anything is an interesting philosophical problem that has occupied the human species for millennia. I am well aware of the arguments. There is nothing to suggest that my systems have been compromised.”

“Except a planet that, by sensor readings, now looks completely different than it did a few hours ago.”

“You have been influenced before, Orac,” Cally reminded softly.

“I was well aware of the intrusion into my systems then. _If_ there is an error in the sensory readings, it extends not only to myself, but also to the one called Zen. Such influence on machines is–”

“Unprecedented?” Avon finished, with a wry smile. “Just like a planet changing its entire makeup, then, Orac?”

There was a long silence before Orac, almost stuttering, acquiesced. “There is a possibility. But I calculate it at much lower odds than my suggested hypothesis.”

“Still, it _is_ the simpler explanation,” Blake said, and Avon nodded. It was by no means _simple_ – an entity that could create elaborate illusions for both humans and computers was terrifyingly powerful – but it was easier to accept than a network of illusions _and_ planets that could transform from one second to the next. Orac’s odds might have been against it, but then Orac had always had considered itself infallible.

“Where does that leave us?” Jenna asked. “It’s a pretty intellectual problem, I’m sure, but whether I can’t trust the sensors or can’t trust myself, it doesn’t solve the problem of getting out of here.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it.” Avon stepped away from Orac, sinking down on the end of the sofa. Vila followed him there, leaning against the padding by his side and sipping at his drink. Avon caught Blake’s eye for a moment, but found no challenge, no reprimand. _Good_.

“Perhaps we might be able to make our way out as easily as we came in, and are simply worrying to much?” Cally suggested, not unreasonably.

“It is possible,” Blake agreed.

“Yes… Though it seems reasonable to assume that the five pursuit ships appearing from thin air were not, in fact, actual pursuit ships.”

Vila tensed at his side. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“ _If_ there is a consciousness behind these events – and it stands to reason that there is, considering that it showed us exactly what we wanted or expected to see – we were driven into the zone.”

“But it hasn’t done anything to us – has it?”

Avon glanced at Vila’s face, still bloody – privately, he would have debated that it hadn’t done _anything_ , but in the larger picture, Vila was right. They were all still alive, and the ship was perfectly intact. There was no power loss, no damaged outer hull, not even, if this hypothesis was correct, any fault in the sensors. “Not yet. Which begs the question–”

“Why?” Blake said.

Avon nodded. “Exactly.”

“Do you think it will prevent us from leaving?”

“I wonder if it, whatever _it_ is, wants us to _attempt_ to leave.” Avon leant back, trying to relax his spine. The tumble down on the planet was making itself felt. “The reappearance of the pursuit ships would indicate as much. The planet has become decidedly inhospitable, and one of our crew was endangered and injured.”

“The odds against the existence of such a being are beyond expression in the human language,” Orac spoke up suddenly, sounding angry. “If you persist in ignoring my recommendation–”

Avon had heard enough – well, he was rather tired. “Oh, someone shut Orac up.”

Cally, looking almost gleeful, pulled Orac’s key, and the machine’s whirring died down with a shrill whine of protest.

“Too much of an ego, has Orac,” Vila said, holding his half-empty glass out to Avon again.

Avon accepted it, more aware of what he was doing this time, and brushed his fingers against Vila’s in thanks. He didn’t bother verbally agreeing. “It still leaves us with the problem of what to do next. If _it_ wants us to re-enter that nebula, _it_ won’t wait much longer before making the situation here even more unfriendly for us. On the other hand, if we _do_ leave–”

“We will be playing right into its hands,” Blake finished. _That_ was getting slightly irritating, but Avon was too tired to snap at Blake now.

“A neat trap,” Jenna said, not without admiration.

“Yes, isn’t it? And we have all fallen into it quite completely.”

For a moment, silence settled over the flight deck. What else was there to say? They had gone into a trap, and from what Avon could see at the moment, there was no easy way to get them out of it again – but then, was there ever? He passed the glass back to Vila, who immediately took a large swallow. Avon could only agree with the sentiment.

“Well, as nothing is happening right at this moment,” Cally spoke up suddenly, “I think Vila needs to be in the medical unit. You, too, Avon. I don’t like how you’re holding yourself. And both of you need something to eat and a change of clothes.”

Blake’s terse expression melted into a rather unimpressive smile. “Yes, let us all get a moment’s rest, at least. Afterwards, we can meet here and decide what to do.”

“ _We_?” Avon asked, unable to help himself.

Blake met his gaze squarely, and responded softly: “Yes, Avon.”

Well. There was really nothing else Avon could demand from him at that moment. “All right. Lead the way, Cally.”

  

Avon disliked the medical unit – and disliked it even more when fatigue was washing over him in waves. He might have had a bite to eat, but he hadn’t slept in… how long had it been? Certainly the last rest he _had_ had had been disrupted by anger at Blake.

Vila, at least, looked much better with the blood cleaned off his face. The wound in his brow really was only a little scratch, already scabbed over entirely. Vila had lost a bit of skin off his palms and knuckles, and had scraped his right knee in the fall, but none of the injuries had bled much, nor did they seem particularly painful. Cally treated a few bruises with the _Liberator_ ’s regenerating equipment, and Vila seemed to enjoy the attention, chatting away amicably enough. There wouldn’t be time for that bath of his, but he had taken a quick shower, and back in a clean set of clothes looked almost happier than Avon had seen him in some days.

“Mind you, when all this is over, I am treating myself to a nice, long soak. Deserve it, don’t I, after opening two locks that might not even have been real only to be swallowed by a hole in the ground, eh, Avon? Avon?”

Avon pulled himself from his wandering thoughts. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that Vila had been talking about – a bath? Even just a moment of quiet sounded like luxury at the moment. “Yes, Vila,” he said, not quite sure what he was agreeing to.

Vila hopped off the examination bed, deftly evading Cally’s hovering hands. “Have a look at him, would you, Cally?”

“I’m fine, Vila,” Avon said, but couldn’t quite bring himself to uncurl from the reclining chair he’d found himself in.

“Yeh, I can see that,” Vila shot back – he could at least have _sounded_ like he believed Avon. “You fell down the same hole as I did, and knowing that look you haven’t slept properly in… what, three days?”

Was it that long? Avon wasn’t sure. “Perhaps I am tired,” he conceded.

Cally crouched down by his side, making use of the mobile medical scanner. “Well, there seem to be no life-threatening injuries, at least.”

“Life-threatening?” Vila asked, startled, and was suddenly on Avon’s other side.

“You need _sleep_ , Avon, and your shoulder is badly bruised – you are lucky you haven’t contused your spine in the fall.”

That, at least, explained the dull ache that seemed to radiate out whenever Avon moved his arm too hastily. Falling asleep to one of Vila’s massages sounded more like paradise than that illusion of a planet had right then. Avon closed his eyes, just for a moment. “It seems there will be little time for sleep.”

“You can take one hour now, Avon.” Cally prodded his arm, and Avon forced his eyes open again. “Lean forward, so I can do something about that shoulder.”

Avon swung his legs over the edge of chair, turning towards Vila and his back to Cally. Vila was grouched by the chair, his knee evidently not painful enough to hinder his movements, and met Avon’s gaze with a smile more brilliant than the situation perhaps warranted.

Avon lifted an eyebrow at him and shrugged out of his shirt. Lifting his arms _hurt_ , not that he could dwell on that. He should probably have a shower, too – the storm on the planet seemed to have tried its best to drive the dust and sand all the way under his skin.

Cally gave a little gasp – well, his shoulder was probably bruising by now – but she didn’t comment, just set to work with the regenerator. There was a limit to what the device could do, especially on soft-tissue injuries – it mended bones just fine – but Avon gradually felt the discomfort lessen. At least he wouldn’t stiffen up just to avoid pain.

“Avon?” Vila murmured.

“Hm?”

“One hour?”

“ _If_ nothing happens in the meantime.”

“We’ll make the most of it.”

“Avon needs to sleep, Vila,” Cally said.

Vila flicked a gaze over Avon’s shoulder, and then grinned back up at him. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“I intend to have a shower first. Are you done, Cally?”

“Yes. _Sleep_ , Avon.”

Avon gathered up his dusty shirt and jacket. “I heard you the first time. Coming, Vila?”

Vila waved at Cally, who looked faintly puzzled, and fell into easy step beside Avon. It felt comfortable, natural, even. Avon breathed a little easier, despite the fatigue.

“Your room or mine?” Vila asked, just quietly enough so his voice didn’t carry in the corridors. Not that they had much left to hide from the rest of the crew, not after what had happened on the flight deck. 

“Does it make a difference?”

“My bed’s larger.”

“No, it isn’t. The beds are exactly the same.”

“Yeh, but yours is so full of pillows and blankets, there’s no space left to sleep.”

Avon was rather fond of his ‘pillows and blankets’, especially when he was exhausted. “I’m tired, Vila,” he said, a touch defensively. 

“Why’d you need a pillow if you’ve got me, eh?”

Now _that_ didn’t sound unpleasant. “Very well, you made your point.”

Vila grinned, and hurried ahead a little, unlocking his door by the time Avon had caught up with him. Avon was still always surprised at Vila’s cabin. He himself had never laid claim to being particularly tidy – he cleaned up when he had to because the mess made it impossible to think, but he saw now point in being orderly just for the sake of it. As long as _he_ knew where things were, that ought to be enough, and circuit boards, parts and tools had a habit of accumulating on his desk.

By comparison, Vila’s cabin was almost spotless. Perhaps it was testimony to the fact that Vila didn’t ‘spend his free time with more work’, as Vila was fond of saying about Avon, and to the fact that neither of them had many personal possessions. Still, Vila’s floor was clean, spare shoes tucked into the nook beside his bed and his toolchest flush against the table leg. The desk itself was empty except for the cloth envelop of lock picks and a dismantled lock Vila had apparently been playing with – something Vila did when he was upset, as Avon well knew by now – and a set of empty drinks carafe and glasses. And of course Vila made do with a single pillow and a light blanket on his bed.

“Give me those, eh, Avon?” Vila pulled the dusty clothes from Avon’s grip, depositing them in an empty drawer along with his own. “You know where the shower is.”

Showering on the _Liberator_ was always somewhat anticlimactic, but at least they had managed to find something resembling simple liquid soap – though Vila preferred a scented type only he used – that made for a cleaner feeling than prison soap. When Avon was done, he found Vila with a fresh set of clothes and nightwear waiting for him with an insouciant grin. Of course the thief had slipped out in the ten minutes Avon had taken in the shower, managed to break into Avon’s cabin next door _and_ locate the clothes. Avon never knew whether to be angry or impressed.

“You need to do something about your door lock. It’s getting boring.” Vila said as he stood leaning against desk, playing with a lock pick, and watched Avon dress – in nightclothes for now, even though the hour of peace was quickly running out on them. Anything else looked too uncomfortable for the moment. Vila never seemed to mind – his clothes were all soft, hard to wrinkle and suited to the maximum range of movement, and as long as he could take off his shoes, he seemed happy to sleep in any of them.

“I haven’t had the time,” Avon replied, sinking down on the bed. “Well?”

Vila came over, settling easily into the bed as soon as Avon had made room for him so his back was to the wall. His own bed was directly on the other side, and for a moment it felt odd facing the other way, but Vila had begun rubbing familiar little patterns on his back, and Avon finally, _finally_ closed his eyes without intending to open them again anytime soon. “You’re not really awake anymore, are you?” Vila whispered, his breath catching in Avon’s hair.

If Avon replied, he couldn’t remember it when he was jolted awake later, but far too soon, by Vila moving his arm from under his neck. “Avon, are you awake?”

“I am now.” Avon pushed himself up on his elbow, allowing Vila to slip off the bed. His throat felt hoarse. “How long?”

Vila looked far too awake and far too worried, pulling on his socks and shoes. “About two hours.”

“ _Two_?”

“There was nothing going on after an hour and Cally said to let you sleep. I’ve never seen you fall asleep that fast.”

“I was – am – very tired.” Avon swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “What’s going on?”

“Blake just called. The sensor echoes are back.”

“Wonderful.” Avon hadn’t yet slept through _any_ of Blake’s calls, but considering that he had slept, truly _slept_ for two hours and barely felt refreshed at all… Well. Perhaps he was getting old.

“I thought you’d say that.” Vila held out his hand, and Avon let himself be pulled to his feet.

Vila filled a glass with water while Avon changed, emptied it halfway himself and then held it out to Avon. Avon drained it, and placed it back on the table. He couldn’t exactly claim that he’d had any brilliant ideas how to get them out of this situation that Blake had got them into, but at least he felt capable of coherent thought again.

“After you,” Vila said, waving at the door.

  

Everyone else was already on the flight deck when they arrived, Avon quickly slipping into his station – not that the sensor reading there would do him much good.

Vila hurried across the deck to the weapons console. “Is it the pursuit ships again?”

Blake, once more standing next to Jenna, shook his head. “Nothing yet, just blips.”

“ _If_ this entity wants us gone, it has had time to think – I doubt we’ll see those pursuit ships again.”

Avon almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut when Cally gave a sudden cry of alarm, quickly followed by Jenna: “Blake, the star!” At the same moment, Zen’s interface flared into life, and several alarm indicators activated on Avon’s console.

Zen’s voice was booming. “Alert! Large gravitational interference. The ship must be removed from the area immediately.”

“What’s happening?” Vila called out, panicked.

“The star is collapsing in on itself – turning into a black hole.” Avon grimly shut off all of the alarms, one by one. Not that the problems would go away as easily. “If we’re moving, we need to move now.”

“Is that even possible? Avon?”

“It’s _unprecedented_.” Avon met Blake’s gaze. “How willing are you to believe my theory over Orac’s?”

“If it _is_ an illusion, can it harm us?”

Avon shifted his gaze to Cally. “I really have no idea. The plasmabolts of these pursuit ships _felt_ real enough, but there was no damage.”

“Let’s not wait around and find out!” Vila.

“I agree with Vila.” Cally.

“All right, that’s it. I’m taking her out of here. Blake?” Jenna.

Blake caught Avon’s glance, and nodded sharply. “Yes. Brace yourselves, everyone.”

Jenna pulled the _Liberator_ from orbit, disengaging the automatics, and the ship started gathering some speed. Circling the planet as they had been, they were now pointed almost into the direction they had come from – not that it made much of a difference. The _Gestures_ were a _high-velocity_ cloud after all, and it stood to reason that it had continuously moved around them while they had been occupied with Gestus Alpha.

Avon had never seen any system go into a tailspin as fast as the _Liberator_ ’s did when they entered the cloud. “Shields!” he barked at Zen, watching them go up – well, at least that was something.

“Avon!” Jenna cried.

“Yes, I see it.”

“Is this an illusion?!” Blake asked, but his tone indicated that he already knew the answer.

Vila gave a little yelp when his console started shooting sparks. “No illusion! Avon!”

Avon gritted his teeth, hanging on to his chair with one hand while diverting all of the rapidly draining power to shields, sensors and engine. Life support was immaterial if they were being torn apart – there would be oxygen for a while yet, even with the filter system deactivated. “Get away from there – activate Orac!”

Vila hurried across the shuddering deck, pushing Orac’s key in place.

“What is going on now?!”

“Orac, how fast can we safely go without the asteroids tearing us to pieces?”

Orac took only a moment to assess the situation. “Standard by eight, _if_ I might be allowed to take over navigation.”

“What?!”

“Jenna, this _thing_ is taking our ship apart – we need to get out of here!” Blake, it seemed, had seen sense for once. “Do it, Orac!”

The _Liberator_ accelerated abruptly, throwing all of them back into their seats, Vila stumbling onto the sofa and Blake nearly falling where he was hanging on to the navigation consoles.

“Avon, can we make it?”

It didn’t look good. _Something_ was syphoning off _Liberator_ ’s energy, and the shields were a considerable drain – but without that cushioning barrier… Even without the hostile outside influence, navigating the dust, micro-asteroids and gravity wells would be a very unpleasant affair. Cally cried out, backing away from her station, which, like Vila’s, was now shooting sparks. “Avon!”

_Better unpleasant than deadly_. “We need to lower the shields.”

“Have you gone insane?!” Jenna again.

“There is nothing I can do against this energy drain. If we don’t lower the shields, we will lose sensors and engines next. Now get away from that console, and find something to hang onto.”

Avon didn’t pause to look if Jenna did what he had told her to – though he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye which might have been Blake pulling Jenna away. Avon dropped the shields.

The navigation console immediately shot sparks. Avon could see Vila ducking behind the sofa. Orac’s whirring rose to a busy whine. The sensor data still feeding into his console was useless to predict how far they needed to travel still. It had been hours going in, but they had been much slower –

“Avon!”

Suddenly, someone pulled him away from the console, and Avon fell uncontrolled for the second time that day just as his console went up in flames. Sparks were one thing, but from his position on the floor, Avon could see flames dancing where his hands had been just seconds ago, the _Liberator_ shuddering under them.

Vila had fallen right next to him, his hand still tangled in Avon’s tunic.

Somewhere across the flight deck, Jenna cried out as the _Liberator_ swerved sharply.

Best to stay on the floor.

“Avon, are we going to die?”

After all that effort, that really would have been a shame. Avon didn’t dare interrupt Orac, and there were no more readings he could check. They couldn’t even abandon the ship. This thing was going to suck the energy out of the life capsules and their bodies as surely as it was draining the _Liberator_.

Somehow, Avon found his hand in Vila’s.

Deep in the bowels of the _Liberator_ , something gave an unholy creak.

“The engines!” Blake – hidden across the deck.

They were still moving – but if the engines had given in before the momentum was enough to carry them out – and knowing their luck they had – they were dead.

Somehow, Avon came to his feet, pulling Vila up with him. He clasped Vila by the shoulders, attempting to steady them both. “Do you still have your lock pick?” He could barely hear his own voice over the groaning of the ship, but Vila nodded, pulling it from his pocket.

Avon only spared it a glance. “Follow me!”

A gravity well just when they reached the stairs almost send them tumbling back where they had come from, but somehow they kept their balance, running at full tilt down the corridor, Vila just a step behind Avon.

Both of them fell at one point or another – Avon was thrown into a wall when the _Liberator_ lurched just as he was rounding a corner, but Vila had caught onto where they were going, and forged ahead, leaving Avon to catch up just as they reached the corridor.

For once, Avon didn’t spare even so much as a glance at the floor to ceiling screen, and Vila was already at the end opening the access shaft down to the engine. “Avon.” Vila’s voice was strained, but level. “What are you going to do?”

The access door sprang open – Vila always did his quickest work under stress – and Avon wasted no time sliding into the narrow tunnel. “Vent the engines manually. It might just give us enough extra momentum to carry us out.” _Liberator_ ’s fuel was self-regenerative, given time. They would be helpless for a while, but at least they would be alive.

Vila passed him the tool. “Is it safe?”

“If I don’t try we’re dead.”

Vila nodded, and surged suddenly forward, pressing a hasty kiss onto Avon’s lips. “For luck.”

Avon gave him a smile – it might well be the last time, after all – and slid into the tunnel. It wasn’t exactly a slide – the walls were too rough, and the incline not quite steep enough, but Avon still made use of whatever momentum he could gather, and almost let go of the lock pick when he finally, abruptly, dropped out into the emergency control centre at its end.

It was small, the ceiling too low to stand upright, and the air oppressive even when the life support was at full capacity, but it was the only place on the _Liberator_ where he could do what he wanted to do without the help of Zen or Orac.

The entire control panel was lit up with alarms. Avon ignored all of them, and opened up the console instead. Vila’s lock pick wasn’t quite the correct tool, but there had been no time to collect his own.

The _Liberator_ shuddered, throwing him back against the wall – were they slowing down?

Avon gritted his teeth, and disabled all fail-safes. _Everything_ was failing anyway. He didn’t pause before activating the venting process.

The engine _shrieked_ under him, and Avon pulled himself back into the access tunnel, gripping onto the handholds set into the ceiling and bracing himself – for whatever was about to happen.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, later. It might have been only seconds – perhaps it was a couple of minutes. It _felt_ like an eternity. Everything became overwhelmingly loud, the air difficult to breath. Gravity played havoc, pressing him against the bulkheads, making his stomach drop and, for mere seconds at the time, failing entirely. If Avon hadn’t been so focussed on not losing his grip and keeping his eyes shut, he might have been violently ill.

It didn’t register right away when it was over. The silence, Avon thought, might have been the first thing he noticed. It was never perfectly silent on the _Liberator_ – certainly not this close to the engines – but when the lack of sound penetrated to his conscious mind, it _was_ silent. At least, if he discounted the beating of his own heart in his ears.

He was still alive.

The engines weren’t running – of course not – and the _Liberator_ had stopped creaking with every move, had stopped doing… anything. Quite possibly, they were still moving – if the _Gestures_ hadn’t slowed them to a standstill, they would keep on moving at the same speed and into the same direction until they regained engines and navigation, or a Federation pursuit ship stopped them. Well. At least the _navigation_ console hadn’t been burning when Avon last saw it.

He uncurled tentatively from how he had pressed his knees into the opposite wall of the tunnel – sore and stiff and very, very _tired_ – and glanced past his boots. No more alarm lights – all engine systems read green.

Still alive.

Avon let his head fall back against the tunnel wall, and contemplated falling asleep right where he was. But there was no telling how much damage the fire had causes to the computer systems, to the flight deck, whether the auto-repair was cutting in – at least life support seemed to be working, the air fresher than it had been when he’d come down. There would be work to do – and then there was finding out how many of the others were still alive.

Thinking of the others brought thoughts of Vila, and Avon blinked wearily at the small lock picking tool he had somehow kept a hold of during it all. He forced himself to move.

The drawback of a maintenance tunnel that was _almost_ a slide was that the way back _up_ was strenuous and slow. Avon was biting back a string of curses that would only have wasted air and energy when he finally reached the top, falling out of the hatch and just remaining where he was for a long moment. He didn’t quite trust his body to move the way he wanted it to after all the shuffling on his back.

He forced himself to do _something_ at the tentative sound of a familiar voice.

“Avon?”

Avon pushed himself up until he was, at least, kneeling, and twisted around to find Vila, who was uncurling from a little ball wrenched into the corner of the bench.

“Avon! It worked!”

Vila had been crying, Avon realised, but he was moving faster than Avon thought _he_ could have managed at that moment, and pulled Avon roughly to his feet and into a jarring hug.

“Ah – Vila, gently.”

“Sorry.” Vila let him go, his hand trailing along Avon’s arm. He was beaming. “It worked!”

Avon held out the tool to him, and Vila took it back, his gaze not once leaving Avon’s face.

“We’re still alive!”

“Yes. _We_ are still alive.” Avon allowed himself a little lingering touch, just as Vila’s grin faltered and worry rose in his eyes again. “Let’s go.”

  

The trek back to the flight deck was much slower than the way down. Every muscle in Avon’s body seemed set on cramping, and Vila was, it seemed, only still running on pure nervous energy, the lock pick twirling between his fingers with dizzying speed as they walked.

Avon knew he should probably head to the computer central first, to find out if the ship was, in fact, still as whole as it appeared, but communications would be down – they were a non-essential system, and _if_ auto-repair had energy and was working, it would be one of the last things it would fix. Avon would rather know now if he and Vila were stuck on a ghost ship.

Fortunately, voices carried on the _Liberator_. They could hear Blake from several corridors away, arguing with Zen – the computer was online, then, always a good sign.

“Data unavailable,” Zen said.

“Orac, where are they?!”

“Looking for someone, Blake?” Avon asked when they reached the steps.

All three of them – all alive, all a little dishevelled and worse for wear – spun around to face him and Vila, and Blake immediately started forward towards them before checking himself. “Avon! What happened?”

A slight burned smell and a faint smoke cloud still hung in the air, but the fire was out, and Jenna was at her console. Vila slid into his station, running a systems check, and Avon leaned wearily against Vila’s chair. His own station, he knew quite well, would be nowhere near operable – as yet.

“I vented the engine manually. We survived,” he told Blake. “Where are we?”

“Uh, running at standard, away from the _Gestures_. According to the sensors, the path is clear, and Orac says we should have manoeuvrability inside an hour,” Jenna said.

Avon nodded. “Good.” He levelled a look at Blake. “Any questions?”

Unexpectedly, Blake laughed. “Well, you will have to tell me eventually how you did it!”

“Eventually.”

“Auto-repair is working, Avon,” Vila mumbled from his left.

Avon caught his gaze for a moment and gave him a half-nod. He was _tired_. “That’s something. No more fires?”

“Not that we could find,” Cally put in, walking over from beside Orac to hover by Avon’s side. He was far too exhausted to wave her away. “Are you all right?”

“ _Alive_ is all I’m willing to swear to.” Avon pulled himself slight more upright with the help of Vila’s chair. “Have you been down to computer central?” he asked Blake.

“Briefly. There seems to be no damage, and Zen confirms it.”

“It can wait, then.”

Avon thought it might have been Vila who caught him when his legs folded under him, exhaustion finally crashing down like a tidal wave.

  

Avon woke up in his own bed, huddled under two blankets. He still felt sore, but rested and warm, and the familiar distant hum of the _Liberator_ ’s engine made him sigh with relief even before he shifted his weight.

“Good morning.”

 _Vila_.

Avon opened his eyes, and found Vila lounging in the chair by his desk, his bare feet propped up on the bed by Avon’s knees. He was chewing on a slice of fruit or vegetable, and Avon’s empty stomach made itself felt.

Vila grinned and reached behind him to the desk to fetch the plate for Avon. It was an assortment of fruit – not Avon’s typical breakfast, but it would do. He shifted until he was sitting back against the pillows and took a slice for himself, forcing himself not to worry too much about the odd colour. The taste was sweet, and the cool juice as appreciated as the nutrition. “The engines are back online.”

Vila nodded. “Yeh. Have been for a while. The fuel’s finally regenerated. Took a lot of time, too – the auto-repair had finished hours earlier.” Vila smiled. “You ought’ve seen Blake’s face when I told him you vented the engines with a lock pick.”

“I think I can imagine it.”

Vila hummed, putting the plate down and passing a glass of water instead. “’s not a breakfast drink, but it’s something.”

“Thanks.” Avon drained the glass, then untangled himself from the blankets, passing a hand over his face. He needed to shave. “How long was I asleep?”

Vila looked suddenly cagey.

“What?”

“Everything was fixing itself, so we thought it’d be better to let you sleep.”

“How long, Vila?”

“Uh, two days .“ Vila craned his head to look at the wall chronometer. “Well, one day and 23 hours, but who’s counting, eh? You were awake for a few minutes in between, but never very coherent.”

“Two days?”

“It’s impressive, that’s what it is. Cally says you were completely exhausted.”

“Evidently.”

“Gave me a right shock, fainting away on the flight deck like that. Mind you, I fell asleep as soon as we’d got you down here, Cally and me.”

“She knows, then?”

Vila shrugged. “Oh yeh. About the relationship, anyway. Blake, too, of course. Don’t think Jenna has quite caught on, but she’s been doing little else but sleep and eat the last two days. Do you mind?”

Avon shook his head. “Not particularly. Blake still owes me an apology. Do you?”

“No. Might have preferred it to come out another way, perhaps.” Still, Vila seemed unconcerned. He offered the plate again. “Here, there’s enough for two. There’s nothing else to do right now.”

“I’m sure Blake will find _something_.”

“He doesn’t know you’re awake yet. Besides, we’ve been taking it slow. Jenna’s got us in orbit around some dwarf planet out of the way, and Orac’s been taking the flight deck shifts. Isn’t like he needs rest – though he won’t shut up about saving our lives. I think even Blake’s been avoiding the flight deck because of him.”

“Let _it_ gloat. I’m sure it will stop when I remind Orac that its hypothesis was wrong.”

“What do you suppose it was?”

“Something in the cloud, I suppose. I don’t intend to go back to find out.”

Vila hummed, biting of another piece of fruit and swallowing it down with barely any chewing – not that it was needed, that fruit practically dissolved into juice in their mouths. “Do you want to get up?”

There was an offer there, Avon knew. “Only to freshen up.” He stood, stretching. There was a dull ache in his entire body.

“Still sore?”

“Passably.”

“Hm. A massage after the shower?”

Avon smiled. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeh.”

  

Of course, things on the _Liberator_ eventually settled back into their usual rhythm – by which Avon again shared the nightshift with Vila or was relieved by him so that Vila slept during Avon’s shift and by the time Vila was done with his Avon had had some rest and they could spend whatever free time there was together doing as they pleased.

Blake was at that very moment thinking up their newest mission, Avon had no doubts – but for now, the _Liberator_ was on an aimless route through unoccupied space, and they were all, slowly, recovering from the fiasco at the _Gestures of Idleness_. Well. Whatever _idleness_ had inspired the name, Avon was sure there was much more of it found out here, far away from the phenomenon.

He had spent most of his shift reading – the interest in tinkering with the _Liberator_ ’s systems not quite so prominent after his own station had burst into flames before him only a little over a week ago. He _was_ considering engaging Orac in conversation, as it was, when Blake stepped onto the flight deck, looking dishevelled. Blake often came to the flight deck when he had trouble sleeping, but he had been avoiding Avon – and Vila, for that matter – for the better part of the last week, their shifts opposing now that Vila had his old shift pattern back.

Avon greeted him with a nod that was friendly enough. His anger at Blake had fled with the two days of sleeping off complete exhaustion, and Avon knew better than to expect an apology when any of the others were around – in fact, he himself would have preferred if they weren’t. He had no intention to explain himself to Blake, but if it took an explanation of his asexuality to settle Blake’s idiotic worry, he would get it. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping, Blake?”

Blake ran a nervous hand through his hair, flopping down on the sofa. “I was feeling restless.”

Avon put his reader down. “Well, I can’t claim the feeling is mutual.”

Blake scanned his face. “Avon, I… I owe you an apology.”

“I think you do.”

“I was… out of line, about you and Vila. I…” Blake jumped to his feet, pacing. “Gods, Avon, I shouldn’t have asked Orac to dig up what he could about my trial. What they did to those children – all of them Delta – I…” He stopped in front of Zen, and turned back to catch Avon’s eyes. “There is no excuse for what I said – what I implied.”

“There isn’t. I might be an embezzler, but I’m hardly the Federation, Blake.”

“I know that.”

“Good. Make sure you remember it, too.”

“I suppose I can only ask for forgiveness.”

“You expect _forgiveness_ – from _me_?”

“I ask it. There are no expectations, Avon.”

“Well, you’ll have to _ask_ Vila. It was him you didn’t think capable of making his own decisions.”

“I talked to Vila.”

“And?”

“He told me to ask you.”

Avon, surprising himself, laughed. “Well now.”

“I _am_ sorry, Avon.”

“Yes, I think you are.”

Blake returned to the sofa, sinking down on it. “You aren’t going to say it, are you?”

Avon sighed. Perhaps it was late, perhaps he was looking forward to breakfast with Vila. Perhaps he was simply feeling uncharacteristically generous. “Very well, Blake. You have your forgiveness, since it’s so important to you. Intrude into _my_ affairs again…” He left the sentence unfinished.

Blake held his gaze for a long moment. “Understood. Thank you.”

“Now go back to sleep.”

Blake laughed, pushing himself off the cushions. “Yes. Yes, Avon, I think I will.”


End file.
